Burke exhibit is a testament to the artistic durability of NW Coast Indians

By REGINA HACKETT, SEATTLE POST-INTELLIGENCER ART CRITIC

Published 10:00 pm, Monday, October 14, 2002

Photo: / Burke Museum

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A small Kwakiutl Dzoon mask.

A small Kwakiutl Dzoon mask.

Photo: / Burke Museum

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A Haida chief's pole.

A Haida chief's pole.

Photo: / Burke Museum

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The life-size, carved sea lion was lifted from a Tongass village roof in 1899. It will be returned to the Tlingits after the exhibit closes.

The life-size, carved sea lion was lifted from a Tongass village roof in 1899. It will be returned to the Tlingits after the exhibit closes.

Photo: / Burke Museum

Burke exhibit is a testament to the artistic durability of NW Coast Indians

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In August 1899, a group of Seattle Chamber of Commerce businessmen and community leaders sailed to Alaska looking for a totem pole. Buying one wasn't the plan. By searching for a deserted Indian fishing village, they hoped to cut down and carry off a good pole without paying for it. The Seattle Post-Intelligencer sponsored the trip and celebrated the results.

Known at the time as the P-I Excursion, the trip netted a fine Tlingit (Klink-ket) pole from a Tongass village and a large, carved and painted sea lion removed from a rooftop's ridge. (In attempting to secure the sea lion, the rector of St. Mark's Cathedral, the Rev. J.P.D. Llwyd, fell from the ladder and landed in a berry patch, where thorns provided this one adventurer an immediate comeuppance.)

Back in Seattle, the city installed the pole in Pioneer Square (corner of First and Yesler), where it remained until an arsonist torched it in 1938. Tlingit carvers, led by the notable Charles Brown, created a replacement pole, which still stands. Because the Civilian Conservation Corps paid them for their efforts, members of the tribe, if not the original owners, finally got some sort of belated payment for their missing pole.

The excuses offered at the time boiled down to one: Seattle's turn-of-the-century best and brightest thought the village was deserted. Why leave a good pole to rot, they reasoned, when it can enjoy a second life in Seattle, where it will foster admiration for its creators?

After the pole was destroyed in 1938, the P-I looked into the Seattle part of its history, quoting surviving observers and participants in its acquisition. Among those who disputed the original claim of a deserted village was the captain of the steamer. He said he recommended the party search for a pole in the chosen village, because he knew the villagers were out fishing. He said he saw only one Indian who "stayed in his house and looked scared to death." And Grace Thompson Cornish, on the boat but not a pole-hunting participant, said it was obvious the village wasn't deserted.

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Although most of the villagers were out fishing, those who stayed home saw Seattle citizens making off with the goods. Their complaints led the governor of Alaska to inquire into the matter. In the end, Seattle businessmen raised $500 and sent it to governor, who failed to pass it along to the victims. "They never saw a dime," says Wright.

What happened to the sea lion? The Burke was hoping you'd ask. Eventually, it found its way to the UW museum, where Wright eventually traced descendents of the original owners. Now on view in "Out of the Silence," it will be returned to the Tlingits after the exhibit closes. They don't want it before then, said Wright, as they are in the process of building a safe place to keep it.

Life-size and shiny black, it swivels its sinewy body to greet viewers, giving them a big, buck-toothed grin. Its black eyes are rimmed in yellow, as if it were wearing halos for eyeglasses, the better to see us with. Who gets the last laugh? I think it's the sea lion, whose long, strange trip is coming to a satisfying close.

The 1899 P-I Excursion was preceded a month earlier by one led by railroad magnate E.H. Harriman. The group took a number of clan treasures from the Tlingit village of Gaash at Cape Fox. Harriman later gave one of two grizzly bear house posts to the young Burke Museum. In July 2001, in company with four other North American museums, the Burke returned the clan treasures to the Tlingit people of Cape Fox.

"Out of the Silence" is a visual measure of the cultural strength of Northwest Coast Indian cultures. In decline at the turn of the century and continuing a downward spiral through the early 1960s, these cultures have rebounded remarkably since then, with art serving its original function of binding communities together and celebrating their identities.

In most art contexts, the word "replica" means copy. The difference between possessing a replica and an original is the difference between owning a map of a place and owning the place. With art made by Northwest Coast peoples, however, the status of objects is always in motion. Poles and house posts decay and are replaced by "replicas." The concepts of original and copy are therefore fused, since both are part of a cycle that extends back to ancient times.

The Burke's exhibit is a mixture of copies and originals, such as the torso (original) of a 12-foot-high welcoming figure with a head (replica) made in 1968 and a lovely grass dress made this year. All parts join together to make a figure that compels attention in the 21st century. Its parts come from different times, but all parts are valued.

All along the Northwest Coast, Indians carved large sculptures in cedar. Southern tribes carved house posts and grave monuments, while northern tribes added to these the concept of a totem pole, a free-standing column with many figures.

Besides the sea lion, which happens to be the very same object lifted from a Tongass village roof in 1899, other objects of great note include a Dzunuk'wa Feast Dish, a huge, prone figure whose belly is an empty bowl and whose chest sports more bowls, all needing to be filled. Anyone present who couldn't promise to host a similarly splendid feast would have to sit facing the figure's toes, a humiliation.

There's a small Kwakwaka'wakw eagle with outstretched wings, and a series of model totem poles, originally aimed for sale to tourists, and a pair of magnificent full-size poles facing the museum's entrance.

Throughout the exhibit are the haunting photographs of Adelaide de Menil, who explored the Northwest Coast from Vancouver Island to southeast Alaska in the late 1960s. She found a silent landscape of ancient villages and decaying poles. With Haida artist Bill Reid serving as writer, she and he published "Out of the Silence" in 1971. The Burke's exhibit is a reply to that seminal book. The silence de Menil and Reid feared would become permanent is now a lively dialogue, with cultures once considered lost making a strong comeback.

This is a first-class, feel-good story. Anyone in need of a strong dose of good news should hurry over to get it. Leaving "Out of the Silence," they can, if they want, cheer out loud, startling crows out of trees and students on their way to class.